


Te Amo Etiam

by StaticLantern



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StaticLantern/pseuds/StaticLantern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki is exiled to Asgard and stripped of his powers, he has no choice but to beg an old acquaintance for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Te Amo Etiam

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr!
> 
> Http://birdwithakeyboard.tumblr.com/

After the failed attack on New York, Loki was brought back to Asgard and sentenced to a lifetime imprisonment. However, after a mere year and a half, the Allfather changed his decision, deeming Loki not even fit to stay on Asgard. Instead, he was banished to Midgard, to repay his debt to the realm of mortals. It was a fitting punishment, stripping him of all his magic and immortality, to serve out a remaining 70 years on the same planet he had intended to rule.

Loki had arrived on Midgard several miles outside of New York city and was forced to walk back, as no one was willing to pick up a man with wild, shoulder-length hair that seemed to be trudging barefoot across the highway. The man then spent six months hopping from homeless shelter to homeless shelter. He never spent too long in one place, as the first couple of months were spent being recognized, beaten, and then thrown out into the cold, which he was no longer impervious to.

It was a long, frustrating journey to realizing that he would not be returning to Asgard anytime soon, and he would need a job and a permanent place to live in order to survive. It was barely halfway through winter and every night spent on a park bench or under a bridge was complete hell. He had developed sores on his skin where frost bit at him, and he had grown pale and thin from starvation. He now turned to the only man he knew could help, though whether he was willing to was unknown (though a very probable definite no, and an even more probable bullet to the leg at the very least).

A heavy snow had set in as the moon rose in the sky, wind howling through the streets of New York and chilling Loki to the core. Living his entire life completely impervious to the cold only made these icy winter nights worse, and having nowhere left to turn to leaving a heavy depression in Loki’s gut. This road was his last hope.  
The man stopped walking as he approached a building, bringing a crumple piece of paper to his nose and squinting his eyes to read from it, his gaze occasionally darting back to the building. Six months of having to find new homeless shelters in the city left him an amazing sense of direction and an uncanny ability to locate any address in a matter of travel time. He was sure now. He stood in front of an apartment building in which an old ‘acquaintance’ was sure to reside.  
A few minutes later, and Loki was standing at Clint Barton’s door, his fists clenched at his side and a sickly feeling in his stomach. Nerves? Hunger? Fear? He was a mortal man now, and if Barton so chose, Loki could be dead only seconds after the door opened. But would that really be a bad option? If Clint would not help him survive this world, it would be a merciful act to help Loki escape it.  
Convincing himself of this idea, Loki pulled his fist to the door and rattled it against the wood, quietly at first, but then louder, worried that Clint would not hear him. He had to knock a few times more before he heard shuffling inside. Clint had probably been in bed for a few hours now and Loki had woken him.  
The door swung open slowly, Clint now visible in the foot-wide gap between the door and the frame. It was dark, Clint was barely awake, and Loki had the hood of an old, tattered jacket pulled up around his face. After a few seconds, the agent flipped the outdoor light on to see who was there, as it was apparent he couldn’t make it out.

There was silence, and tension, and an obvious air of confusion. Clint was certain he was dreaming. How else could Loki be standing at his door? But it was so, the man stood outside his apartment, skinny as possible, pale, and adorned in not admirable golden armor, but instead in sneakers, faded jeans, and a tattered old jacket. His hair was a mess, clearly having not been brushed in a few days at least, and hung loosely around the man’s face.  
"H-how-?" It was apparent Clint didn’t know what to say, and so Loki cut in.  
"I know I’m the last person to be asking this, and I know I have no right, but I… I haven’t anywhere else to turn," Loki had long since swallowed his pride. He would not be alive today had he not, "Please, I’m begging you- please…. help me,"

Loki’s gaze had now turned to the wall, studying the peeling paint intensely, his pale skin now tinting pink. He had no pride, no dignity, he’d lost that upon his exile, but even now he found it embarrassing to present himself to Clint in such a demeaning fashion. If there was anyone left who’s opinion meant anything to Loki, it was Clint’s.  
Clint was silent for a moment, only to break into a short chuckle, “You really think that after all you did, you can ask me, of all people, to help you?” He asked, still laughing as though the whole thing were a joke.  
"I know I haven’t the right, and I-"  
"Damn straight you haven’t the right!" Clint wasn’t laughing now. He was angry, and understandably too.  
"P-please, Clint, I have nowhere else to go, I-I… I don’t know what to do," His voice faltered a couple times, but he refused to cry. It was not something he had done in quite sometime, especially not completely like his eyes were threatening to do, and he’d rather die than allow Clint to see him sink so low.  
"Well that’s not my problem," The door shut in his face and several locks clanked shut from inside.

Loki sank to his knees, turning around to lean against the wall. He let out a staggered sigh, still yet trying not to cry. It was frustration and hopelessness. He had nothing left to do but let the cold take him. His stomach twisted in knots at the idea. Normally, he would have had thousands of years left in his life, and with a normal human life he was given, he should have had at least several decades left to prepare. But now, with how things had gone, he was reduced to maybe a few hours. Two days at best, assuming the cold let up.  
His eyes were sinking with exhaustion, only shooting open again at the sound of footsteps. Loud, drunken footsteps, a sound he knew all too well from a lifetime around Thor and his friends. He looked up wearily to see who approached. Moments later, as the sound grew louder, a figure appeared in the hallway. A tall, lumberous man came teetering into view, talking loudly on his cellphone as he approached. As he neared Loki, he hung up the phone, put it into his jeans pocket, and leaned against the wall, staring at Loki. After a few minutes, a look that Loki knew painfully well registered on his face.  
"Heey! I know you! Yertheguy that attackednEwYork!" The man laughed, "Guessyou really got whatwas comin to you huh?!" The man continued to laugh and throw insults, then, threw a few punches.

By the time Clint heard the noise over the sound of his tv and opened the door, Loki was on the ground, bloody and still being assaulted by Clint’s drunk neighbor. Something came over him and he quickly drew his gun from the table beside the door and pointed it at the man.  
"This man is property of Government branch, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, otherwise known as S.H.I.E.L.D., any further damage afflicted to him will result in your immediate arrest. Stand down."  
The man stopped, stared at Clint, his gaze darting to the gun, then surrendered. He muttered something before staggering off down the hall and into his own apartment. Clint sighed, staring down at the huddled mess beneath him. “Why do I do this shit?” He wondered out loud, placing his gun back on the table and bending over to grab Loki by the arms, dragging him inside the apartment. 

Loki was reminded daily that at the end of the week, he would have to move on. Clint wasn’t a damn babysitter and Loki had no place in the one-bedroom apartment. Despite this, Loki was not forced out after a week. Not after two, three, four weeks. Not after a month. By the second month, Loki had been given a job at a local restaurant as a waiter. His hair was tamed, he gained weight, he looked presentable. By the third of February, Clint finally grew tired of sleeping on the couch and they began sharing the queen bed in Clint’s bedroom, though he was very strict about Loki ‘staying on his own goddamn side of the bed’.

Loki wrapped his coat tighter and hiked his scarf higher against the brisk wind. An overcast had set in around 2, and by now the sky was darkening. He was on his way home from yet another hellish day at work, when he paused to listen to a radio outside a shop. He did this sometimes, just to give him a few extra moments to himself between customers yelling at him at work and Clint yelling at him at home.  
Something the broadcaster said stuck with him. Valentine’s Day? He’d heard the word thrown around a couple of times the past week or two, but he’d not really thought much of it until now. It bugged him. He wanted to know what it was and why it was so damned important to everyone all of a sudden. He turned to an employee at the shop, and asked, knowing full-well he was going to sound stupid as all get out.  
"Fuckin foreigners, what, you ain’t got Valentine’s day back where you come from?" The man said in the same thick accent that most everyone around here had. It was irritating and was often the cause of friction between him and customers at the restaurant.  
"It’s a holiday. You know, one day outta the year to really pamper your love one, or admit your feelings to someone. Whole day a romance n whatnot," The man replied, shrugging and turning back to his work. Loki thought he muttered something else under his breath, but he didn’t care enough to tell him to repeat himself. Instead, he turned and left.

For the rest of the week, Loki’s thoughts lingered on this ridiculous concept that was Valentine’s Day. It all seemed so stupid, but at the same time, Loki almost wanted to participate in it. He’d been pondering whether he should do something for Clint, as he was a loved one, but admit feelings towards him? Probably a bad idea. It was true, Loki did have very deep feelings for the man, but he knew Clint could barely stand him, and would probably shoot him just for joking about it. They were constantly fighting (or rather, Clint yelled at him and Loki either ignored him or replied with cheap, sarcastic taunts). Perhaps it were best just to leave for the day and give Clint his space.  
Fortunately enough, Loki worked that day, from 9 in the morning, until 3 that afternoon. It was the worst day he’d ever experienced. Wave after wave of people ordering sickening desserts and every single person that came in wanted to swap spit with their partners. Loki had to pardon himself to the restroom several times to void his stomach.  
By the time he was headed home, Loki felt ill and tired and just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the rest of the year. As it was, he stopped in front of the shop again, idling around for several minutes before finally saying “Fuck it,” and left with a box of chocolates. Fucking incredible.  
Furthermore, Loki stopped at the grocery store on the corner and bought four bags of food before returning to the apartment. Clint was in the shower, which gave him a chance to begin cooking without being bombarded with questions immediately. He grumbled to himself as he cooked, continuously asking no one in particular why he was even doing something as stupid as this. 

Clint emerged from his bedroom in a pair of black sweatpants, still dragging a towel across his hair. Just by entering the room, Loki could tell Clint was in a bad mood.  
"The fuck is all this?" Clint asked, gesturing to the mess that now overtook the kitchen.  
"I’m making dinner, what does it look like?" Loki replied sarcastically, unable to even pretend to be in a good mood.  
"You never cook dinner. You never cook at all, why the change of heart all of a sudden?" He asked, tossing bags off the counter.  
"It’s… a holiday, you’re supposed to do nice things on them right?" Loki replied, now returning his attention to the stove where all four burners were in use, "I’m doing what you said, integrating into society, being useful," Resentment dripped from his voice.

"Yeah, and what about these?" Clint asked, picking up the box of chocolates. Shit, Loki forgot about those. He had decided after that he was just gonna throw them away, it was a dumb idea anyways, "Te amo? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"  
"…They aren’t for you," Loki lied. The worst lie he ever told in the history of time itself. The note had Clint’s name on it for fuck’s sake.  
"Uh-huh, sure. Just clean up your mess when you’re done," Clint replied, muttering under his breath as he left, "Dumbass,"

Loki let out a sigh, “Well… that went better than expected,” He said to himself, returning to his cooking. 

 

Clint seemed to be in a worse mood than usual during dinner. He ate in silence, never even glancing at Loki. They were just finishing dinner when Loki stopped and stared at Clint across the table.  
"I go through all this trouble to make you dinner, and you can’t even be bothered to look at me?"  
Silence again, then Clint looked up, “Look, I’m not a big fan of Valentine’s Day, and I’m not a big fan of you. And I know you couldn’t give two shits about human tradition or holiday, so I wanna know what the fuck you’re up to, but I also know you’re not going to tell me the truth, so there’s no point,”  
"…Te amo… Clint," Loki replied calmly, continuing to eat.  
Clint sighed, throwing his napkin down, “Whatever, sleep on the couch tonight,” He got up and disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him.  
Loki calmly finished the last couple of bites on his plate, calmly wiped his mouth on a napkin. He calmly folded the napkin and place it on his plate. And calmly, Loki scooted his chair out, stood, and flipped the table against the wall. Plates shattered and food smeared across the wall, dripping onto the floor. He turned and grabbed the cake which he’d made for desert and threw that against the wall too. It was until the kitchen and dining room were in complete disarray and Loki had received several injuries from ricocheted glass that he noticed something had changed.  
Looking down, he noticed his skin had turned a soft shade of blue. His eyes widened and jaw dropped, staring at his arms in disbelief. How could this be happening? This wasn’t possible, he could always control his form, even in emotional distress.  
But he used magic for that. He had always hidden his true form with magic, even from himself for most of his life. His best guess was that when he was exiled, he still remained a few drops of magic left, just enough to conceal his form, but by now, it was beginning to run out, and slowly, he would return to his Jhotun form.  
He let out a a distressed yell, stumbling backwards towards the mess, tripping and falling into the pile of broken dishes and crumbled food. At that moment, the door swung open and Clint emerged, fully prepared for a screaming match with Loki. His fury only increased when he saw the mess, but quickly changed to complete and utter befuddlement when he saw Loki.  
"What the hell is going on out here?" He demanded, nervousness showing in his voice.  
Loki smiled, chuckling a little, “I’m-,” His voice cracked, “I’m reverting back to my natural form. I don’t have enough magic to hold it much longer,” His lip quivered, fear overtaking his face. He wouldn’t be able to leave the apartment looking like a frost giant. It was bad enough just being recognized for being part of the attack on New York.  
Clint idled for a moment, not sure what to do, worried that Loki might lash out and attack him or try to run. Slowly though, he moved towards the man, reaching out his hand and grabbing Loki’s wrist, “Well sitting in a pile of glass isn’t going to help the situation,”  
Loki allowed Clint to guide him away from the mess and into the bathroom, where Clint cleaned Loki’s cuts, which ranged all the way from his bare feet to his face. Loki was shaking, not making eye contact with his roommate, not speaking, occasionally trying to yank away from Clint as though he didn’t want to be seen or touched.  
"Would you relax? Jeez, you’re determined to make this difficult for me," Clint said after Loki jerked back for the hundredth time, "This doesn’t even hurt, you’re just being a baby,"

Loki stopped moving and looked up at Clint for the first time in half an hour. “Why did you let me stay here?” He asked suddenly.  
"What are you talking about?" Clint asked, trying to sound irritated with such a ridiculous question, as though the answer was super obvious.  
"You told me every day that I had to leave at the end of the week, but you never made me leave, and, eventually, you stopped saying it. Why did you let me stay her?"  
"I don’t know! I guess I just didn’t want to kick someone out knowing they had nowhere else to go," Clint replied, sounding more irritated with each question.  
"You hate me though, and for good reason," Loki replied, watching as Clint wrapped a clean, white bandage around his slowly darkening blue arm.  
"I do. You’re the most horrible person I’ve ever met. You’re heartless and cruel and deserve to be chained to a rock in the middle of nowhere for the rest of eternity," Clint replied.  
"Te amo etiam, Clint," Loki smiled.  
"You’re an idiot," Clint replied, laughing.

Twenty minutes later, Loki was void of blood and wrapped in white, cotton bandages. Clint insisted he go to bed and went to clean the mess himself. It was near midnight when Clint finally came to bed. To Loki’s surprise, he crossed the line long set up to keep them separate and wrapped his arms around Loki, pulling him close.  
"This was the worst Valentine’s Day ever man," He mumbled into Loki’s ear, resting his cheek on the man’s shoulder.  
"Really? I thought it went better than expected," Loki replied, bring his arm up around Clint’s waist tentatively.  
Clint tightened his grip around Loki, “You’re fucking stupid dude, you need to get out more,”  
"Te amo etiam," Loki replied, pulling Clint’s chin up and pressed his lips against his. Clint jerked back at first, but then leaned into the kiss, his eyes sliding shut.

When the kiss was finally broken, Clint laughed, “I can’t believe how horrible you are. I fucking hate you,” There was a short silence, but Loki broke out into a laugh as well, the two of them laughing in eachother’s arms. “Te amo etiam Clint… Te amo etiam,”

It was his way of telling Clint he loved him, and telling Loki he was awful was Clint’s way of telling him. They both understood, and they were able to fall asleep in what was probably the first peace either of them had felt in three years at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr!
> 
> Http://birdwithakeyboard.tumblr.com/


End file.
